


Striking Back!

by Ysabel (Mystical_Isabel)



Series: The *real* karate kid [1]
Category: Cobra Kai (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Cursewords, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Study, Flashbacks, Gen, Mild Language, Minor Canonical Character(s), Present Tense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-06
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:55:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28185009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mystical_Isabel/pseuds/Ysabel
Summary: The defeat at the karate tournament in '84 ruined Johnny's life, and living under the shadow of his successful former rival only makes things worse. Especially because said former rival's business's advertisements only keep reminding him of it, over and over again. Is there a silver lining?Or: Johnny's perspective of the events in Ace Degenerate.
Relationships: Miguel Diaz & Johnny Lawrence
Series: The *real* karate kid [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2064705
Comments: 24
Kudos: 8





	1. Wrong guy on the wrong day

**Author's Note:**

  * For [StrikeLikeACobraKai](https://archiveofourown.org/users/StrikeLikeACobraKai/gifts).



> I hope you enjoy this little journey into Johnny's mind, or at least my version of it!
> 
> All credit goes to the show and everyone who participates in it. The writers for putting it all together and the actors for representing it in such an amazing way! I'm mostly just here interpreting the episode and translating all that into written words.
> 
> Thanks Kai for all your encouragement and feedback! 💖

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daniel LaRusso and that stupid slogan, we kick the competition, seems to follow Johnny around like a bad omen. And every time he sees any of LaRusso's advertisement, he is sourly reminded of how successful LaRusso is and how much of a failure he himself is. Even worse now that he's just lost his job.

_**"Sweep the leg.”** _

_Confusion._

_Betrayal._

_**“Do you have a problem with that?”** The voice is a sneer. Mocking._

_Shame._

_Despair._

_Frantic searching for any kind of reassurance in Sensei’s dark eyes. A glimmer of trust. Even the slightest hint of pity or understanding._

_There's none._

_Devastation._

_“No, Sensei.”_

_Fear._

**_“No mercy.”_ **

_The world crumbles and falls apart._

_Comprehension._

_Horror._

_Getting into fighting positions._

_Helplessness._

_Resignation._

_Anger._

It's LaRusso's fault.

He shouldn't have been fooling around with Ali.

_Strike. Aiming for the opponent's weakened knee._

_Point._

_Next round._

He shouldn't have doused me with that water hose when my back was turned. He _humiliated_ me in front of her.

_Catching up to him as he rolls away, hitting him on the back._

_Another point. The score is even now._

_Twisted satisfaction._

_Next round._

He shouldn't have run away, or hid behind that sensei of his like an _absolute coward_!

_Resentment._

_Grabbing a kicking leg, elbow jabbing into the previously injured knee._

_"Hai-_ ki _ya!"_

_"Get him a body bag!"_

**_"Illegal contact to the knee, no point!"_ **

_Booing from the audience._

_Realization._

_Guilt._

_Last round._

_LaRusso's face fills with determination and fear. His injured leg bends and raises, arms also raised at both sides in perfect equilibrium._

_Puzzled pity._

Why is he still trying?

_LaRusso's determination never falters. The two contestants lock eyes for a moment._

_Understanding._

**_"Finish him!"_ **

_Acceptance._

Strike first. Strike hard. That's what I've been taught. That's what I know.

_Moving forward, ready to win that last point. No holding back._

_Sudden agony as foot connects with face._ _White, hot pain._

_Falling to the ground…_

_Aching all over._

**_"The new champion, Daniel LaRusso!"_ **

_It's over._

* * *

The blaring sound of an alarm wakes Johnny up. Eyes still closed, he hits the alarm, turning it off. He takes a sip from yesterday's beer, trying to shake off the last remnants of his nightmare. A wave of nausea rolls over as his body rejects the alcohol on instinct, but it's the only thing that can numb this constant ache. His head hurts.

Another sip. This time, the alcohol settles giving him a light, numbing feeling that he can't seem to live without. The images from last night's dream fade into the back of his mind where he'll keep them, locked away.

The morning goes on as usual. There's a certain comfort in repetition, but there's a sense of inadequacy, too, which seems to permeate his existence. When he goes outside to take out his trash, someone tries to strike a conversation with him.

"Hey, I'm Miguel. My family and I just moved in, to one-oh-nine." Johnny turns to the speaker, a teenage boy with black hair, and brownish skin. One of those immigrant types from Mexico or Puerto Rico or something like that.

"Great, more immigrants." He brushes the guy off and continues on his way to the trash bins.

The kid doesn't take the hint, though, and trails behind instead, saying something about water pressure and sinks not working. He talks fast at times, which unnerves Johnny. When the boy tries to tell him where to throw the trash, he decides he's got enough.

"Listen, Menudo," he says, remembering that all-teens boy band from the 80s. "I've lived in this shithole for over ten years. Pipes don't work, the fountain's full of piss, the only good thing about being here is I don't have to talk to anybody. So nice knowing you." With that, he picks up his things and leaves the dork behind.

He gets into his red Pontiac Firebird, turns on the radio and heads off for his daily tasks. When he reaches the main road, something new catches his attention.

It's a huge billboard that says, with flashy gold letters, _LARUSSO AUTO GROUP._ And right below, in white, _We Kick The Competition._ And there's the guy himself, LaRusso in all his pretentious glory, leg lifted in a kick.

"You _gotta_ be kidding me. Not _another_ one," Johnny complains, the sensations he's tried to keep at bay coming to the front once again. Pain and shame as that very same leg connected with his face; the agony of defeat. He seems to live under the prick's shadow, ever since that fateful day back in December 1984, maybe even before that. From the moment LaRusso first butted his way in between Johnny and Ali.

Johnny raises the volume of his radio, not wanting to think about his past, and continues on his way to Encino Hills. From his car, he catches sight of a hot chick in exercise gear stretching by the road. He stops the car next to her, lowering his shades then placing them over his forehead.

"Hey," he says. But the woman only shakes her head at him in mild disgust muttering something that sounds like "creep," and runs down another path. He places his shades back in place over his eyes and tries to shrug it off, but the rejection does sting, a bit. Honestly, women these days.

* * *

The rest of his morning is spent doing a bunch of degrading stuff, like draining a septic tank and cleaning some rafters, where he even finds a dead rat. Some brats think it's funny to throw water at him with their toy gun things. Really, though, he can't complain much. He's used to it. Sort of. Still, some days are better than others.

Today is not one of those.

He is currently setting one of those fancy TVs on a wall when his client, a brunette lady, comes into the room to check his handiwork.

"Woah, woah, woah. What the hell is this?" The woman sounds displeased.

"Don't worry, it's gonna be level, I'm just lining it up."

"You put it on the wrong wall! I said the wall across from the door!"

Johnny does a double-take, turning around, only to see a perfectly visible door across from the wall he's setting the TV on.

"This _is_ the wall across from the door," he answers with a level tone. Breathe.

"Not that door, idiot, the _door_!" A manicured finger points to another door on the same wall he's placing the TV. He struggles to see the difference between the two doors. Seriously, it's not like he can read her mind, or like there's anything obviously special about _that_ door.

He tries to conciliate while letting her know that taking the TV off and fixing the wall won't be simple. He explains how he'll need time to buy materials, but she's having none of it, even complaining about something else entirely, and calling him a dummy.

"Ok. We'll figure this out, all right? Just quit _bitchin'_ at me."

The woman raises a brow. "What did you just call me?" Damn _._ He's probably in trouble, now.

In no uncertain terms, she tells him to leave. He does so as fast as he can, not wanting to spend any more time in that place anyway.

Later that day, he gets a call from his boss, and he has to clarify the situation.

"No, no, no. I didn't call her a bitch, I said she was _bitching_ at me. There's a difference!"

 _"I'm sorry, John."_ His boss replies. _"But I have to fire you."_

"You're firing me because of that bitch?" He speaks louder, making his indignation clear. He hears a deep sigh.

 _"Look, she filed a complaint, and to be honest, that's not the attitude I expect from my employees."_ There's a tone of disappointment. In _him_. Is Mike even _listening_?

"You know what? I hated this damn job anyway. You better pay me what you owe me, Mike!" There's no answer. "Mike?" He checks his cellphone and realizes the call had ended. _Shit_. What now?

Johnny walks back to his car, shoulders slumped. Nothing is working out for him today, it seems. He gets on the Firebird and shifts it on.

 _"Banzai!"_ comes from the radio and Johnny recognizes it immediately. Of fucking _course_ it's LaRusso's commercial.

The voice chuckles before continuing. _"Here at LaRusso Auto Group, we kick the competiti—"_

No. Screw that. He shuts the radio off, sick of the guy already.

Daniel LaRusso and that stupid slogan, we kick the competition, seems to follow Johnny around like a bad omen. And every time he sees any of LaRusso's advertisement, he is sourly reminded of how successful LaRusso is and how much of a failure he himself is. Even worse now that he's just lost his job.

Ugh. He wants the day to end already. He also wants a drink of Coors. Maybe that will give him some escape from the nightmare that is his life.

* * *

The sun goes down. An ache in his stomach reminds Johnny he hasn't eaten since that morning. Normally, he would have picked something from a drive-thru, but without his day payment, he has to prioritize. He's hungry, so he drives to the Mini Mart near his apartment and asks for a slice of pizza. The clerk, some Mexican thirty-something dude, grabs the slice with his probably unwashed hand for what feels like an eternity. That dorky kid from one-oh-nine walks in, saying something in Spanish which Johnny doesn't really care about. The clerk points somewhere with the pizza still in his hand.

"Can you put that on a plate?" He tries to be polite.

Apparently not. The asshole rummages somewhere near the floor, and one-oh-nine walks towards them after getting his item, stopping to stand next to Johnny. They glance at each other briefly before Johnny turns his stare back at the clerk. 

"My grandma's not feeling well." The kid raises a Pepto Bismol as an explanation.

"Didn't ask." The boy's knowledge of Spanish and desire to be friendly may be useful, though.

"C'mon, what's Spanish for 'just give me my damn slice'?" He glares at the clerk but directs the question at Menudo. The clerk finally reacts, standing straight _with the pizza slice still in his damn hand._ He says something in Spanish to the boy, and Johnny has the distinct impression he's being made fun of. The kid looks back at him with a smile on his face, like he wants to share the joke, and Johnny bristles.

"What did you just say?" He demands from the clerk, then turns to his neighbor. "What did he just say?"

The teenager looks at the floor, then back at him. "You don't wanna know."

"I know it's something bad. Just tell me."

"Uh, he said you have a tiny..." the kid trails off, then looks downwards at Johnny's crotch area and gestures with his hand, making it clear what he means.

Irritated, Johnny looks back at the clerk, who is finally typing the cost of the pizza into the cash register. The clerk is no longer smiling. "He said I have a tiny wang?" The clerk nods impassively. "Tell him _he_ has a tiny wang."

The clerk glares. "I speak English, asshole!" Johnny feels satisfied with his reaction.

"Oh, really?" Johnny hands him the bill and snatches the slice from the offered hand.

It's dark outside and the air is chill. Four guys get off a car parked in one of the parking spaces in front of the Mart. They appear to be in their late teens or early twenties. They walk past Johnny as he exits, making noises of excitement. One of them, a tall dude with ginger hair, blows smoke from his cigar at him.

"Pshhh." He looks back. _Asshole._

There are no other cars around, and almost no traffic noises. Johnny sits on the curb and takes a deep breath, releasing some of the tension of the day. He chews on his pizza slice, not really giving much of a damn about the Mexican clerk manhandling it. Whatever. Beggars can't be choosers.

As he's chewing, a woman with crazy, long curly hair approaches him. She tells him to leave and not to hustle, that it's her Mart. He stares in indignation.

"I'm not hustling! I'm not homeless! That's my car!" He nods at his Firebird. Does he really look homeless? Yes, he hasn't shaven and his hair is probably a mess, but he's _not_ that hopeless.

There's a ding from the mart's door, and the loud youngsters from before head out, his neighbor amongst them. By the looks of it and by what they're saying, they're pissed at Menudo for blowing their cover at trying to buy beer, so they must be teens. Johnny glances at them briefly, feeling pity for the kid. The ringleader, a tall guy with Asiatic features, looks somewhat familiar. Johnny looks away again, continuing to chew on his pizza, but unable to completely ignore them. He looks back at them again. The Asiatic one is now pouring the Pepto Bismol on one-oh-nine's hair and face.

"Bitch."

He looks away, feeling second-hand indignation at that. The kid may be an annoying dork, but no one deserves that.

"Asshole." Is that Menudo? Johnny takes another look. He's impressed that the smaller boy had it in him, but also, that was probably not a good idea. He looks away again, mixed feelings warring inside of him about whether to intervene or not. The smacking sound of a fist hitting flesh reaches him, and the Asian's friends cheer. The kid is pushed into the Firebird.

 _That's it._ They have his full attention now.

"Hey!" he exclaims and stands up. "Watch the car, man!" Nobody messes with his car. They need to be taught a lesson, maybe two.

They turn their attention to him. "Who's this dude?" the Asian asshole asks.

"Just leave the dork alone."

Now that he's got their attention, one-oh-nine gets off his car's trunk.

"You see this guy? Eating his dinner at the Mini Mart like a bum." The ginger-haired asshole mocks.

"Wait, I think I know this guy," the Asian dude sniggers. "He's the jerk-off that cleaned my dad's septic tank." 

Johnny looks at the ground with shame as they continue laughing.

"Ohhhh. That's why he smells like shit!" A chubby brat with too much energy waves his hand side to side as if waving the smell away. Johnny straightens. He's better than these pussies. If he has to kick their asses he will, and he will feel no remorse about it.

"Trust me, you are pissing the wrong guy on the wrong day, all right?" He warns them, giving them one last chance.

"Oh, really?" the leader replies.

"Yeah, really."

"Get out of here, loser!" Johnny gets pushed away. He takes two involuntary steps back, taken by surprise, before regaining his balance. His neighbor, now behind him, gives him a worried look, and he's strangely touched. Staring threateningly at the Asian kid for a brief moment, he steps forth again, getting ready. Then, he jumps into the air, aiming a kick at the guy's head. It's _on._

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Let me know your thoughts :)


	2. Spoiled

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains some more angst, but nothing that we don't see in the show. I hope you enjoy it!
> 
> I also made some minor edits to the previous chapter. Mainly not referring to Miguel by name, since Johnny probably doesn't at that moment. Rereading that chapter isn't necessary, but that change is reflected here.

The kick connects. His opponent falls backward to the ground with a groan. Pain in his hip reminds Johnny he's not as young as he used to be, but he feels a sense of satisfaction and payback. The other three assholes stare, uncertain. Then one of them, a black dude wearing a dark sweater, moves forward.

"Let's get him!"

Adrenaline rushes through his blood, years of training reflecting on his muscle memory. Instinctively, he shifts into position. The sweater-guy moves towards him but he easily sidesteps, having predicted the attack, and grabs his arm, using the momentum to jab the chubby one on the chest and kick the ginger kid away. He finally releases the arm he's been holding and elbows its owner before he can regain his balance.

The Asian teen approaches. Johnny quickly calculates, tensing his muscles, and kicks his chest, pushing him away. He knees the ginger-haired dude and elbows the sweatered kid before either of them can come at him again.

 _"Finish him!"_ he remembers the order from his training sessions all those years ago.

Taking advantage of his momentary distraction, the fat guy knocks him into a lamp post. The impact hurts like a bitch, but Johnny ignores the pain and retaliates, sweeping his opponent to the ground. He's fought worse. 

He pants, recovering his breath, his eyes taking in the scene. The fight seems to be over, the group of assholes lying on the ground in various degrees of pain. Menudo stares at him, impressed.

"Holy shit, how did you—"

Before the kid can even finish his sentence, arms wrap around Johnny's waist and spin him into the hard asphalt. His knees and hands absorb the impact, but the wind is knocked from him. He's punched in the ribs and falls again with a pained grunt. Resentment gives him strength. He gets up, ready to throw his enemy away, but the coward has managed to wrap that arm around his throat and now squeezes, blocking his airway.

"What's the matter! Having trouble breathing?" It's the Asian guy's voice.

Fear overwhelms Johnny, and for an instant, he's back to that night in the parking lot. Things are different now, though. He's not a boy and the person holding him is not a full-grown karate master. He manages to recover with a quick elbow jab which loosens his opponent's grip.

He's learned from his past.

The fight resumes, Johnny managing to get the upper hand despite being outnumbered. The Asian teen comes at him, but he grabs him in a chokehold, spiteful and angry.

“What’s the matter? Having trouble breathing?” He’s caught up in the moment, retaliation being the only thing on his mind. He doesn’t notice police officers stepping forth.

"Hey, get off the kid!"

* * *

Sleep evades Johnny, images of those teenagers in the parking lot fresh in his mind. Of them wailing on a kid half their size, unprovoked. Of Johnny fighting them off, of him choking the Asian one. He turns on his side, trying to find a better position, but the floor is too hard, even with a mattress (what did he expect? This is jail) to really be comfortable. He wonders what would have happened if the cops hadn’t come when they did.

 _I’m not_ like _him_ , he thinks. _I_ can’t _be._ Those assholes deserved it, but he had almost gone too far. Just like back then, like what Sensei Kreese did to him. He feels tears in his eyes, but with a shaky hand, he quickly brushes them away.

His mind shifts to his neighbor (he distantly recalls the boy introducing himself as Miguel on their first encounter), and the grateful, almost disbelieving look on his face when Johnny had stood up for him. He feels a tug in his chest and sighs; weary, unsure.

Everyone close to him seems to get hurt, abandons him, hates him, thinks he’s a loser, or dies— sometimes two or more of these options at once. He doesn’t want to have to lose anyone else again, it hurts too much, so he pushes people away.

His conscious thoughts slowly fade, giving way to the blackness of dreamless sleep.

* * *

The glaring sunlight gives him a headache, though it may also be the hangover. He gets to leave jail early as someone has bailed him out, but that’s not much of an improvement. His body aches. Getting pushed into a light post hurts, being beaten into the hard asphalt and dragged to jail is even worse, sleeping on a hard surface sucks, having no job sucks even more. There's nothing left to do but return to his Firebird and drive back home.

*

As Johnny gets off his car, he is approached by the Hispanic kid.

"Hey. I just wanted to say thanks." 

Johnny considers him. The boy's posture is slumped and his stance is awkward.

"All right, well, you said it." _Now leave me alone_. He turns away and heads to his apartment, but the teen follows behind, either not getting the hint or ignoring it. Persistent, but not smart. If he was smart he'd have stayed away.

"So last night, was that, like, Tae Kwon Do or Jiujitsu or M.M.A or something?" They're now inside the condo. Johnny rubs his neck, the pain from the fight making him feel sore all over.

"It was karate. Old school karate."

"Do you think you could teach me?"

"What? No." He gave up on karate a long time ago.

They reach the wall near the exit door, where the lockers for mail and stuff are placed. He takes a key from his sweater's pocket and opens the little door, taking two envelopes out.

"Come on," his neighbor pleads. "When school starts, those guys are gonna make my life miserable."

"It's not my problem." He reads the envelopes- useless- and drops them to the floor.

"Look, if- if I just knew a little bit of what you knew, then I would be-"

Johnny locks the little door and turns around to face the kid. "Forget it!" His patience is wearing thin. Christ, he is persistent, but he doesn't get it. "I don't do karate anymore, all right? Besides, I need to find a job." He opens his arms in a "c'mon, be reasonable _"_ gesture. 

"Well," Miguel leans forward, dark brown eyes fixed intently on him. "You could open your own karate school!"

"It's called a dojo." he deadpans.

"You could open your own karate dojo!"

"Look, _I'm not getting into this with you_. I'm not even sure I'm allowed to be around _kids_ right now." That's probably part of being 'on probation'. The boy has a kicked-puppy look which makes his chest tighten.

"All right, you want my advice? Stop being so annoying. Maybe you'll-," he looks down and starts walking away, to his apartment's door. "-stop getting your ass kicked." It's for the best.

*

As he opens the door, Johnny catches sight of something unusual. An unknown woman in a colorful cloth shirt is sitting on his lounge chair, watching TV, as if she belonged there. She gives him a disinterested look then refocuses on the TV as he looks from the door in confusion.

“Who the hell are you?”

"You know those little stickers that say further reduced?" Sid’s voice comes from his kitchenette. From Johnny’s fridge, his step-father turns his eternal scowl on him.

"That means spoiled. You know that, right?" Johnny shuts the door behind him and braces himself for his step-father's verbal abuse.

"What the hell are you doing in my apartment, Sid?"

"Oh, that's some thank you. Who do you think bailed you out? _Again_." He stresses the last word and shuts the door of the fridge shut.

Johnny feels defensive at the condescending tone. "I never asked you for anything." He steps inside towards his closet, letting his sweater fall into the nearest empty couch. He needs a change of clothes.

"I thought that little incident at Applebee's would've taught you to keep your hands to yourself!"

Johnny takes his dirty shirt off and throws it at his bed. Then, he picks a clean, casual red bottom-up.

From the living room area, Sid is now saying something about Johnny’s mom. He winces, wishing he didn’t have to hear Sid’s callous words, especially about his mom. His head still hurts.

"-Little did I know I'd have to take care of her schmuck kid forever."

And there it is. Even after all these years, Sid's barbs still sting.

Now better presented, Johnny exits his room.

"Yeah, Sid, you were the step-father of the century." He strides towards the fridge for a pack of ice, schooling his face into a neutral expression. His step-father won’t have the satisfaction of knowing how those hateful words affect him.

“Well, high praise! Coming from a world-class daddy like you. How old is Robby now? Fifteen, sixteen? When was the last time you saw him?” the old man walks closer and Johnny tenses, suppressing the regret and sadness he feels at the thought of his son, anger surfacing instead.

“Just get the hell out of here, man!”

“I’ll get the hell out of here when I’m goddamned good and ready!” After some yelled exchange between his step-father and the woman, Rhonda, Sid steps closer. Johnny tenses.

“ _This_ is why I’m here.” There's an almost concerned look in the old man's face as he produces a folded piece of paper from his shirt pocket and offers it to Johnny who takes it with his free hand.

“What’s this?”

“You know, I told your mama I’d take care of you always, but in this case, I think even _she_ would cut me some slack.”

Johnny glances at the envelope again, not understanding.

“I’m buying you out of my life.” Sid sneers.

Johnny meets his step-father’s glare and sneering tone with a scowl of his own. He unfolds the paper, glances at it, then breaks it in half.

“I’d rather be homeless than taking money from you.”

Sid scoffs and mutters, then looks at the nurse woman still sitting on the lounge chair. “Rhonda! Lunchtime! Call Arts!” Johnny picks the ice pack, placing it against his head again.

The grump finally leaves, but not without one final blow.

“I’d say, get your life in order. But uh, at this point, you’re like the meat in your fridge.”

Johnny wants to punch something, he really does, but when it comes to the old man, it’s better to ignore him. He glances at the picture on his fridge, of ten-year-old Robby at his soccer game, and is filled with remorse once again. That bridge was burned a long time ago. His son wants nothing to do with him anymore.

*

After taking a nap, Johnny feels better; his body is still sore but the aching has mostly subsided. The sun has set and the apartment is dark. He grabs a couple of Coors from his fridge and turns on the TV, where Iron Eagle is playing. He’s watched it at least ten times, but it’s his favorite movie and provides an escape from his sad thoughts.

> "Doug, I ain't gonna make it!"

Taking a swig of beer from the can in his hand, he watches the scene unfold.

> The veteran flyer had sensed danger but simply accepted his fate. In preparation, he'd recorded a message for Dougie to listen to. The Eject message flashes on the older pilot's screen. An explosion is heard.
> 
> "Chappyyyyyyy!"

Johnny understands Dougie's loss. (Even though he knows the movie's ending, this part still gets to him.)

> The young flyer plays the recorded message.
> 
> _"A bunch of things must have gone wrong if you're listening to this. Whatever happened, I know you must be real scared. Right now, you're probably filled with all the doubts in the world."_

There's always a sense of connection for him when he watches this scene, but maybe even more now. A lot of things _have_ gone wrong, he's jobless and he's scared. He can admit that to himself as he leans forward in interest.

> " _But I'm gonna tell you something, Dougie. God doesn't give people things he doesn't want 'em to use. And he gave you The Touch."_

Karate was the one thing he was good at. He remembers how his talent grew, how proud he felt when he won his first match, then his first tournament. And his second one. How we would leave all his worries outside the mat until he was nothing but pure instinct. He was the best student at his dojo. He remembers that final fight against LaRusso, how he gave it everything.

> _“It’s a power you have inside you down there where you keep your guts, boy."_

He remembers fighting those pansies in the parking lot, how good it felt to be protecting someone who needed him. To dish out and let go of some of his frustration and pain. To almost feel alive and hopeful again.

> _“It’s all you need to blast your way in and get back what they took from you.”_

Everything _he_ took from him— 

> **_“Banzai!”_ **

A sudden commercial break makes Johnny jump and holy shit, it’s LaRusso again, as if summoned by his thoughts. The man appears on the TV screen, in a suit, grinning, cars on sale behind him. 

> "Daniel LaRusso here from LaRusso Auto, bringing you specials from all our inventory."

Johnny grabs the remote, flicking on to a different channel; everything is better than having to listen to this jerk. But the remote doesn't work.

> "We have an excess of Grand Cherokees—"

_Blah blah blah look at me, I'm the best— seriously, what's wrong with this stupid remote?_ Johnny thinks as he bangs the appliance against the edge of the table, trying to get the batteries to work.

> "...Nah, make that... Chop!"

LaRusso makes a karate chop in the air where the price is located, 'breaking' it and reducing the amount. He continues chopping and hacking all the other prices.

At this point, Johnny is really annoyed, trying to get the damn thing to work, but no, it doesn't want to cooperate. He looks at the screen again. His old nemesis is still talking.

> "And as always," the man steps closer to the viewer, "every customer leaves with their very own bonsai tree." He lifts a small, potted plant and grins.

Fed up, Johnny grabs a beer bottle and tosses it against the TV. The screen breaks. Effing great. At least he doesn't have to watch that stupid idiotic face anymore.

> "LaRusso Auto Group. We kick the competition."

Thankfully, the sound fades away, but not fast enough.

Shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big thank you to Supergirlx55 for giving me con-crit on the fighting scene! <3


	3. Head games!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to BetaCobra, StrikeLikeACobraKai, SweetPollyOliver, Jules1980 and Wadsworth for your suggestions and feedback on the pieces I shared! 💖 And thank you to all the amazing writers here in AO3. You helped inspire me to see what works and what doesn't so I can improve my own writing.
> 
> I hope you enjoy this!
> 
> By the way, I wrote the parking lot scene as a separate work, so if you want to read it it's the next work in this series!

Johnny needs to go out and think things through, to help clear his mind. Or alternatively, to numb it and _stop thinking_ . He’s never been good at actually controlling his emotions or shit like that, that's more Bobby's area. And what he _actually_ needs is to be left alone. Grabbing some beers he heads out, into his trusty Firebird's front seat. He presses play on the car’s radio. Head Games, by Foreigner, begins to play.

It's late and the streets are dark, but the traffic hasn't slowed. Feeling reckless, he speeds along the road with one destination in mind, while taking a big gulp from the bottle in his hand.

Someone honks but he’s past caring. The intro to the song plays, filling him with adrenaline and freedom.

> _Daylight, all right. I don't know,_
> 
> _I don't know if it's real._

It's the same feeling that riding a motorbike with his cobra brothers used to give him. He takes another gulp from the beer, his heart beating fast with the memory of that last day of summer before senior year, the ride to the beach, how hopeful he felt.

> _Been a long night,_
> 
> _and something ain't right._

Mostly, he'd been hopeful about his relationship with Ali, naively thinking he could get back with her if only they talked. Ali was the love of his life, the one made for him, the only person who got him apart from the rest of the Cobra Kai quintet. Her smile had taken his breath away from the moment he first saw it. A smile that promised the world for those who could prove to deserve it. And her brown eyes like melted chocolate; sweet and enticing. Johnny grins as heat rushes to his face thinking about her, at how he used to feel when he was with her; safe, excited, filled with passion, scared but always ready to leap into the abyss for her.

> _You won't show,_
> 
> _won't show how you feel._

But then _he'd_ come, messing everything up. LaRusso with all his New-Jersey arrogance, strutting around like he owned the place. Back during the soccer tryouts he'd showed off for her, jogging the ball on one knee, then another. Johnny had watched, jealous, as Ali grinned at LaRusso, eyes gleaming with amazement as if that was the hardest trick in the world.

> _No time ever seems right._
> 
> _To talk about the reasons why_
> 
> _you and I fight._

For probably the millionth time he wonders what Ali ever saw in Daniel. His grip on the steering wheel tightens until his knuckles are white and he grits his teeth. He recalls the night on Halloween when he and his friends, dressed in their traditional skeleton costumes, were taken by surprise and beaten up by LaRussos's sensei; an old, Japanese man, his karate far surpassing theirs.

Johnny leans his head back against the seat's headrest and winces with regret, recalling the anger and resentment of watching his buddies being thrown into the ground one by one until only he remained.

He sees in his mind how he'd approached, ready to strike with no mercy and the skills that came with being Cobra Kai's star-pupil, only to be tossed into the ground and struck on the chest like a mere child.

> _It's high time_
> 
> _to draw the line,_

But then, LaRusso and his sensei showed up at the Cobra Kai dojo, demanding that Johnny fight him at the All-Valley tournament, asking for the boy to be left alone until then.

> _put an end to this game_
> 
> _before it's too late._
> 
> _Head games!_

He remembers how he had been all too happy to oblige, not even batting an eye at the sadistic way John Kreese had accepted the challenge, not realizing there was anything wrong with it. He shakes his head, wondering if it would've been better for everyone had he admitted defeat sooner. Maybe none of this would've happened.

> _It's you and me baby._
> 
> _Head games!_

His eyes narrow, watching the cars and buildings pass by. Back then, he’d been eager to put the twerp back in his place. He blamed him for the bruises he got in the fight against the Japanese sensei, the black eye caused by an angry Sid the next day, and the cold shoulder he was getting from Ali.

> _And I can't take it anymore._
> 
> _Head games!_

He'd been taken by surprise by the smaller boy's ability for defense and counterattack. When it came down to the final point, LaRusso had raised his leg in perfect balance. Johnny hadn't known what to do except follow his sensei's command.

 _Finish him_. Strike first. Don't wait for your opponent to attack.

He'd lunged forward, ready to finish it on his own terms, but LaRusso switched legs, quick as lightning, and kicked him on his face.

> _I don't wanna play the_
> 
> _head games!_

Johnny places his hand on his head, to defend himself from that kick, but it's too late. Thirty-four years too late. Hot, poisonous anger rushes through his veins and he swerves, faintly realizing he's almost reached his destination.

He feels the blow, over and over, sees the foot connecting with his face and wonders if he could've done anything differently. He hates both Daniel LaRusso and John Kreese for ruining his life.

> _A daydream_
> 
> _For hours it seems_
> 
> _I keep thinking of you_
> 
> _Yeah, thinking of you_

Johnny hits his car's steering wheel, sadness and hurt threatening to overwhelm him. He refuses to cry, though. That bulshit is for pussies and babies. He takes a swig of his beer, in the hopes of drowning the hurt.

> _These daydreams_
> 
> _what do they mean._
> 
> _They keep haunting me,_
> 
> _Are they warning me?_

He's finally reached his destination, the All Valley Sports Arena. The place where it happened. Where everything went down. Johnny drives until he reaches the parking lot, then turns the car off. The music stops. This is the exact place where the worst moment in his life happened, leaving him scared and vulnerable.

He relieves the traumatic event. The moment when the man he'd called Sensei had turned on him for losing and he'd finally seen him for what he truly was. But like many things in his life, it had already been too late.

Bile rises in his throat and he takes another drink of his beer bottle, now empty, watching the cement, remembering, stuck.

_"How does second place feel now, huh?"_

Like he was a waste of space, that's how… Like maybe he somehow deserved it…

CRASH!

He turns around to see the Firebird in a different position, having been bumped from the side by a black Range Rover.

The night only keeps getting worse.

He heads to that other car to give the driver and passengers a piece of his mind.

"Open the door!" He yells at the bunch of teen girls through the passenger window. The short brunette directly in front of him edges back in fright.

He's scaring them, but he's too frustrated to care.

"Open! The! Door!" But the girls panic and pull away, escaping.

Shit!

He gets in his car to follow them and demand they compensate for the crash.

The engine doesn't work. He punches the headboard.

"Oh, come on!"

The airbag deploys right on his face.

* * *

Karma hates him. There's no other explanation for his terrible luck. He called a tow-truck to come pick his car up. As it turned out, the truck driver took it to LaRusso Auto Group of all places. He gets out of the taxi and places his almost-empty wallet into his pants' pocket.

Johnny has specifically been avoiding this dealership. Any car-related business is done elsewhere. Besides, he's had his Firebird since the 90s and until now it never gave him any problems.

The building is big and pristine just like its owner. Johnny sighs and braces himself; he's now in enemy territory. With his sweater's hood over his head and sunglasses on, he will hopefully remain incognito. 

Once inside, he scans the place for the front desk. A guy in a suit approaches him. A typical salesperson.

"How you doin' sir. Would you be interested in–" 

"No!" he quickly replies. He's not here to buy and he doesn't need distractions. He walks directly towards the front desk, lowering the hood. He figures he'll attract more attention with it than without. The lady at the desk smiles.

"Hi, welcome to LaRusso! How can I help you?"

Johnny leans closer. "Hi, I just need to pick up my car." He says it low to avoid any unwanted attention, uncrumpling the paper with his car's information from his hoodie's pocket.

"I'm in a bit of a hurry," he adds.

The woman grimaces. "Ohh, this came in last night?"

Johnny looks back over his shoulder, then at her again.

"It'll be a couple of weeks, but we'll call you with an estimate," she continues and hands him back the paper.

"No, my car wasn't supposed to come here. I want it towed to a different body shop."

"Why?" she asks like the idea is silly to her. "We have the number one service team in the Valley."

Mhm. Sure. He nods, not really agreeing.

"We kick the competition!" She grins and points at him like he's supposed to be awed to hear that goddamned slogan or something.

"Yeah, yeah, I've heard that a million times," he sighs. "I just prefer to do my business elsewhere."

She looks back at him, disappointed, then checks something in the computer.

A voice behind him catches his attention and he looks over his shoulder again. Another dude on a suit and a preppy vest grins at a couple near the door.

"Before you go, Mr. LaRusso wanted to thank you personally." Shit! So, he _does_ work here! Johnny looks at the lady again.

"Can you hurry it up? I gotta go." He looks into her eyes, tense.

"Hold on." The lady takes her sweet time at the computer. He grimaces and taps his foot on the floor.

"Um, it says your car's in one of our intake lots, I'll just figure out which one."

Nope. Fuck it. Ain't gonna happen. He won't stay here waiting for 'Mr LaRusso' to see him, much less like this. "You know what? I'll come back tomorrow."

He turns around and begins walking away, ignoring the expensive cars and the rich workers and clients, only looking at the exit. His escape.

He's walked a few paces, almost free, when the all too familiar voice says his name.

"Johnny?"

Johnny squeezes his eyes shut, bracing himself. Dammit. He hoped he'd be able to remain anonymous, but no such luck. Turning around, he faces his old rival after so many years. LaRusso looks at him, maybe taking in the changes from when they were in high school, but Johnny doesn't need to. The man in front of him hasn't changed at all from the cocky bastard he used to be, except his clothes, and he has seen enough of him already.

LaRusso's face breaks into a grin as he strides towards him. "Johnny Lawrence, I- I knew it was you! Holy… " His arms wave at his sides.

Johnny freezes, caught off guard by the guy's enthusiasm.

There's a small pause before LaRusso closes the distance between them. "How the hell are you?"

He wraps his arms around Johnny like they're old friends, but Johnny doesn't reciprocate. He can't. He only manages a weak "Hey man," instead.

Finally LaRusso releases him after one more pat on his back, and he sighs, relieved.

"Oh my God, look at you! You've still got those golden locks, ey?" LaRusso looks at his hair.

Johnny only nods. He hasn't expected LaRusso to be so friendly, though the cheerfulness is unnerving.

"God, this is crazy. How'd you-- how you been?"

"Great, man, thanks, I've been great." He looks down, breaking eye contact for a second, before looking at LaRusso's big brown eyes again. There's something so self-assured and confident about him that makes Johnny feel small.

"That's great! Hey, hey, Anoush! Come here! Louie, get over here!" The man waves at the guy with the preppy vest at one side and then to his other side, at the seller who greeted Johnny when entering the building.

Johnny quickly shakes his head, wanting to be anywhere else but here.

"I want you to meet someone," LaRusso continues, oblivious to Johnny's inner turmoil or purposefully ignoring it.

"No, no, I gotta go," he denies and moves away to leave.

LaRusso grabs the side of his unzipped hoodie and pulls him back.

"No, no, no."

The two other dudes approach and stand between them. He stays in place as if glued to the ground, forcing himself to relax, even though LaRusso has already let go. Fighting won't do him any good here, anyway.

"This is Johnny Lawrence," LaRusso continues. The guy with the preppy vest, Anoush, extends his hand and Johnny shakes it.

"He and I go way back. Isn't that right, buddy?" Johnny doesn't reply, glaring at LaRusso as he goes on like this is normal.

"This guy used to be the toughest dude in my high school. When I first moved here from Jersey, he and I… got into it a little bit."

Johnny makes a small movement of agreement with his head, unsure about whether to be offended or amused.

Louie and Anoush look at them with mild interest.

"This guy really had it in for me."

"Well, you did move in on my girl," he counters. LaRusso's eyes widen.

"Well, she actually wasn't your girl anymore, was she?" LaRusso laughs but he sounds nervous as Johnny stares him down. Serves him right.

"I- I mean-" LaRusso bites his lip, and tries to regain his footing. Johnny feels satisfied at this small victory.

"Well, it's all water under the bridge now." LaRusso waves his arm as though sweeping the matter under the rug. Johnny calms down and nods along.

"Wait," Anoush cuts in in unexpected suddenness. "Is this the karate guy? The guy from the tournament?"

Johnny frowns at the amused tone.

LaRusso waves a hand in his direction with emphasis while smirking at Anoush. Johnny can tell he's enjoying this and grits his teeth.

"Oh, this is the guy who's ass you kicked?" Louie chimes in from Johnny's left.

"Well, it was a really close match, but, if you want to get technical," LaRusso sniggers, "I kicked his face!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will probably be one more chapter, but we'll see. ^^
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	4. History repeats itself

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter title is a lyric from the song You're the Best Around by Joe Esposito.
> 
> Hope you enjoy! This is the last part and it's been really fun to try to decipher Johnny Lawrence's mind in canon. I hope you feel like I did him justice! :)
> 
> Also, I added a line to the scene with the crash from the previous chapter, mentioning Sam directly. It's not necessary to go back and reread, but that change is used here in Johnny's flashback of that moment.

LaRusso and the other two dudes cackle and the asshole has the nerve to pat Johnny's arm.

"I'm just busting your chops," he says as if they were buddies. Johnny glares at him, and if looks could kill, he'd be dead already.

"It was an illegal kick." Johnny defends in a dry voice.

"Oh, illegal; really? Come on. What about that elbow to my knee?" This time LaRusso's laughter sounds more guarded.

Johnny steps closer into LaRussos's space, using his height and build as an intimidation tactic. "Yeah, I got a warning, you got the win." One more of the pile of injustices he has to live with.

Right after, Preppy-Vest pushes him away from LaRusso, with enough force that Johnny has to take a step back. "Woah, woah, woah! No fighting in the showroom, guys!" He sounds like a girl. Johnny ignores him. Instead, he keeps his eyes on LaRusso like he's a threat, which he may as well be. The other two go back to whatever they were doing before LaRusso had called them.

"Well, enough reminiscing, right? So what brings you in, are you looking for a new ride?" LaRusso's attention is back on him, and Johnny can sorta understand why the man is on top of the car-selling business.

"He says he wants his car towed to a different body shop," the desk lady answers, approaching them.

A strange pang of guilt has Johnny avoiding LaRusso's gaze, not having expected him to find out. 

"Oh, no, no, Johnny, we got the best prices in town." By the tone, Johnny can picture those big eyes open even wider, mouth curved down in a frown, eyebrows raised in shocked concern or some shit like that.

Johnny tenses, expecting to hear that stupid slogan again, but when he doesn't, he impulsively looks at the man.

"That crook at Cole's on Van Nuys will try to screw you over." LaRusso's hands move to illustrate his words, and his expression is very similar to the one Johnny had in mind. "Sheila, let me see the estimate." The desk lady passes him a thing that looks like a cellphone, only bigger.

Johnny takes a deep breath, dreading finding out the price.

"Pontiac?" LaRusso raises his eyebrows even higher. Johnny nods along, ignoring the judgment. "Firebird."

"Yeah," he says under his breath. LaRusso probably drives something luxurious, but the Firebird has style. And he has many good memories of it.

"Well, someone did a real number on this thing."

“Yeah”.

"Maybe it's time for an upgrade. Why don't we walk the lot? I'll give you a great deal on a certified pre-owned–"

Johnny cuts him off. "I just want my car." He shakes his head.

LaRusso is the one looking at the floor now, thrown off. "Alright." He glances at Johnny, then back to the floor. "You got it. Alright, let me see how low I can get this repair." The eyebrows lower in concentration, focusing on the device.

Johnny lowers his gaze at it too, frowning.

"Friends and family…" LaRusso goes on as though ticking items off a checklist. "My own personal code." He sighs after a moment and Johnny does as well. The numbers on the screen are too high for him to pay, even with that discount. Johnny raises his head to look at LaRusso and their eyes meet. It seems like the guy deflates, giving up. Johnny's probably screwed.

"You know what? It's on the house."

Wait, what!? Johnny shakes his head in disbelief and anger. "No way. I don't need your charity." And he doesn't want it. Not from LaRusso. Or anyone. But especially not from him.

"No, you'd be doing me a favor," LaRusso insists, with a soft, smooth voice, palm open. "Our guys aren't used to working on a car like this. They could use the practice, you could use the repairs, this is a win-win–" Bullshit.

"I said I'll handle it." Johnny snaps, cutting him off.

"All right." LaRusso raises his hands in surrender. Maybe Johnny has managed to get his point across that thick skull at last.

"OK, but it's–" he tries again. Ugh, why's he so persistent? "John, it's gonna cost more than the car is worth." The gentle tone and use of his real name disarm him and he lets his head drop. LaRusso angles the device's screen at him, showing him the high price. Johnny feels like something is stuck in his throat. He’s not even close to having that amount.

"Listen, don't worry, Johnny, it's my pleasure, all right?" Daniel looks at him and pats his arm.

Johnny sighs and nods in resignation, relief flooding his stomach. "Okay." Maybe just this once.

"Just– hang here for a sec, I've got something for ya. One minute." Daniel holds up a finger and steps away with overflowing energy towards the front desk and his office.

Well. Daniel LaRusso sure is something. He is acting more kind and chivalrous than Johnny was expecting. Not counting that brief goading, which in hindsight maybe wasn't so bad? Ugh. Was he wrong about him? Had he been wrong all this time?

From the entrance, a small, young, brunette teenage girl walks towards Daniel. She looks familiar.

"Hey, dad!"

"Look who's here!"

Johnny watches them hug. Suddenly, he recognizes her.

_"Open the door!" He yells at the bunch of teen girls through the passenger window. The short brunette directly in front of him edges back in fright._

_He's scaring them, but he's too frustrated to care._

It's her. She and her friends crashed his car. She's LaRusso's daughter?!

The girl walks into LaRusso's office.

"You gotta be kidding me." Johnny turns around to leave, repair be damned. The whole LaRusso family is rotten, he hadn't been wrong about _that_.

"Hey Johnny, wait up." Fuck. Not again. He just wants to leave, dammit.

"Johnny." He stops, resigned.

"Wait up." Seething, he turns around, only to face an oblivious LaRusso with one of those stupid banzai trees or whatever they're called in his hands.

"Every customer gets one." Grin still in place, LaRusso hands him the potted tree, and their hands brush for a moment. Johnny accepts with the passiveness of a well-behaved student.

"And hey. Look. I don't blame you for what happened back in the day, alright? I know that wasn't you. It was Cobra Kai and we're all better off without it, am I right?" LaRusso's expression shows earnestness, but his words are just that. Words. He hasn't stepped back and keeps going. "All right, take care of yourself," he pats Johnny on the arm again. "And I'll call you when the car is ready, ok?" LaRusso starts to leave but backward, in some weird mix of optimism and excitement on those eyes and that smile.

"This is crazy!” The guy adds. “You look– you look– it's good to see you, man!" He finally turns fully around like a normal person, back to his clients or his office, who the hell knows.

Johnny walks outside in a daze of restrained anger. What gives LaRusso any right to decide if they're better off without Cobra Kai or not? Who the hell is he to pass on judgment like that? Johnny was the Cobra Kai student, not him. Johnny was the one who almost got choked to death.

Johnny exhales. He needs a strong drink. The plant on his hand is getting heavy so he holds it with the other one too. After taking a few more steps he realizes he doesn't need or want it. It's enough that he's accepted to take charity from the twerp, he doesn't need another reminder of everything LaRusso represents. He drops it accidentally-on-purpose and hears the sound of the pot breaking behind him. Satisfied, he orders a taxi to take him back home.

_It was Cobra Kai and we're all better off without it, am I right?_

LaRusso's words irritate him, but they also give him an idea. It's something that has been growing on his mind since watching that scene in Iron Eagle.

_God doesn't give us anything he doesn't want us to use, and he gave you the Touch._

Maybe giving that kid, Miguel, Karate lessons isn't such a terrible idea after all.

* * *

He gets the chance to talk to his young neighbor later that day when Miguel is throwing out his trash.

"Are you sure you're ready?" He asks him, once they're facing each other. Johnny stands tall. Self-assured. "Cos once you go down this path, there's no turning back." He tells himself those words, too, knowing the implications of his choice. No more hiding.

"Are you gonna be my karate teacher?" Miguel smiles. Johnny feels lighter than he has in ages.

"No." He pauses for dramatic effect, but also because these next words are important.

"I'm gonna be your Sensei." The boy's eyes glow with excitement at his words.

"I'm gonna teach you the style of karate that was taught to me; a method of fighting your pussy generation desperately needs." He knows he's making the right decision. Maybe Cobra Kai got bad in the end, but it made him who he is today. It helped him survive.

"I'm not just gonna teach you how to conquer your fears; I'm gonna teach you how to awaken the snake within. And once you do that, you'll be the one who's feared." This would be good, not only for him and for Miguel, but for all the kids in need of someone teaching them how to stand up for themselves.

"You'll learn strength. Discipline. And when the time is right, you'll strike back."

* * *

Two days have gone by since Johnny and Miguel talked, and Johnny has already started making changes in his life. The empty beer cans littering the floor are thrown into the trash, and so is the meat in his fridge. The apartment looks better and feels better, too. 

In one of the boxes stacked against the wall of his dark apartment, Johnny finds his old headband, the one Ali had given him. He ties it around his head. In an almost-reflex, he does a jab punch, reminiscent of the Cobra Kai warm-ups. The memory makes him eager to feel that way again and to pass down his knowledge and experience.

The ripped check Sid had given him also finds a good use when Johnny tapes it back together and uses the money to buy the place next to the Mini Mart. It isn't charity; he will pay the old man back once he has more students signing up to join his dojo.

Things finally start falling into place, and Johnny lets himself feel something he hasn't in a long time.

Hope.

* * *

The empty place in the strip mall in Reseda is now cleaner, thanks to his and Miguel's work. Or, fine, maybe the kid has cleaned more than he has, but with how weak Miguel is, he should be thanking Johnny. It's getting late though, the sun has begun its descent.

Johnny is arranging his trophies in his new office when the entrance doorbell jangles, signaling someone entering. Hopefully, it's a new student.

"Welcome to Cobra Kai." He greets whoever it is, stepping out of the office.

There's a man near the entrance. Black hair. Olive skin. Skinny. It's LaRusso, of course. Johnny shouldn't even be surprised anymore. The man’s black stylish pants and denim light blue shirt make a sharp contrast with Johnny’s own casual jeans and a light sweater.

"Some things never change," LaRusso raises his forearms as he speaks, then lets them drop, not bothering with a greeting. Rude. He's standing near the entrance in a watchful position, arms dangling at his sides and legs lining up with his shoulders. It’s a big change from the radiance he displayed at the car dealership.

Johnny stops when he’s fully outside his office, in front of LaRusso, but keeping his distance from him. His stance is similar to LaRusso’s and it reminds him of those stand-offs in cowboy movies. "Yeah, what’re you talking about!" He's confused about what the guy wants, but he won’t cower anymore. They’re on his turf now.

"I heard you beat up a bunch of teenagers in that parking lot out there." LaRusso signals outside with his thumb, followed by his whole hand cos LaRusso never seems to do anything half-way. 

Johnny's gaze drops to the floor, unconcerned. "Oh, _that_." He curls his hands into fists and raises them halfway as LaRusso had done, then letting them drop. “No,” he raises his hands again, now with both index fingers out. The incident is fresh in his mind, but now he looks at it in a new light. He looks up, straight at LaRusso. "I didn't beat up any teenagers.” Stepping forward, he delivers his next words. “I kicked the shit out of a bunch of assholes who deserved it,” He continues taking slow, deliberate steps, stopping once he reaches the side of the training square nearest him.

LaRusso scoffs. “Oh, Johnny Lawrence calling someone else an asshole. That’s rich, man.” He’s smiling, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. His hands lift at the last words.

“Yeah, what's that supposed to mean.” Johnny narrows his eyes.

LaRusso licks his lips and raises a hand, fingers open in a peace-offering gesture.“Look, I'm not here to rehash the past.”

Johnny moves his head in acknowledgment, waiting.

“Just stay away from my daughter’s friends.”

Ah. That’s what this is about. “Your daughter’s friends? Yeah, that makes sense! Nice company she keeps!” The irony is baffling.

LaRusso scowls, no hint of any friendliness left and angles his body forward. “What the hell’s that supposed to mean.”

“Means those friends of hers were wailing on a kid half their size.”

At his words, Daniel’s face shows disbelief and worry.

“And maybe you don’t know your daughter as well as you think you do,” Johnny continues.

“Who the hell you think you’re talking to!” Daniel strides forward, stopping at the other side of the training square.

“Bathroom’s clean!” Miguel calls. “Is there anything else you need me to do?” From the corner of his eye, Johnny can see the kid has stepped outside the bathroom. He holds a hand out for him to wait; this stand-off needs to be solved somehow. LaRusso glances at where Miguel is, then at Johnny, hesitant.

“I’m sorry, Sensei, I–"

“Sensei?” LaRusso asks. “Really.” His face shows disbelief. Johnny nods, even though it isn’t any of LaRusso’s business.

“Oh my God, kid, I don’t know what he’s told you but you shouldn’t believe a word this guy says, or you’re gonna end up exactly like him.” The words are directed at Miguel, though the kid stays silent. Johnny wonders if that’s a good thing and a spark of contempt sparks in him. The hell gives LaRusso any right to talk to Johnny’s own student like that?

“You and I…” LaRusso licks his lip. “This…” he looks around at the walls, and probably at the black words on them, then raises a finger, pointing it at Johnny. “We aren’t done.” With that, he turns around to the door. The nerve of this dude.

Before he reaches the door, Johnny speaks, calling him out on his threat. “I’m right here, man!” He stretches his arms at his sides. If it’s a fight LaRusso wants, it’s what he’ll get, and this time Johnny won’t hold back.

LaRusso turns halfway, in a look that can only be called a sneer, and waves his hand like he’s swatting off a fly, then opens the door, stepping through it.

Johnny walks to the door, amused at the guy’s reaction.

“I’m sorry if I interrupted anything, Sensei,” Miguel speaks, but Johnny’s attention is still focused on his rival.

There he goes, running off like the coward he really is. “Should I do twenty push-ups on my knuckles?” Johnny is entertained by Miguel’s words and dismisses him, not in a mean way, with a laugh. “Right, like you could.” He doesn’t turn around, curious about what LaRusso will do. The guy seems to stick to his not-striking-unless-its-for-defense approach.

Johnny is reminded of that day in high school when Johnny had seen him at the Cobra Kai dojo and the little boy had escaped, scared of him.

The moment seems to repeat itself as LaRusso, now inside his car on the driver seat, has turned on the headlights and their eyes meet. LaRusso shakes his head, exactly like that time, and Johnny’s mouth lifts in the same arrogant smirk he had given him last time. It’s good to be back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few extra notes. I'm not an apologist. I know full well that some of Johnny's behavior is problematic. But at the same time, I understand where he's coming from, and he's trying to improve himself. Daniel isn't the bad guy, neither is Johnny, but Daniel does jump to some conclusions just because he still thinks of Johnny as the main Cobra Kai bully.
> 
> Rewatching the first episode and this last scene was hilarious and I really enjoyed catching some extra details. Ralph Macchio and William Zabka are really great actors and I love the chemistry they have together, so props to them for that.
> 
> Also, I'm really happy this series exists. I feel like the way the writers left things for Johnny back in TKK2 was very sad, so I'm glad his story, and Daniel's too, has continued in Cobra Kai.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading this, and for leaving Kudos and commenting if you have. That's a wonderful gift!


End file.
